J: I didn’t say that. But let me ask you this. If there weren’t any shepherds or . . . astrologers, would you still be my friend and follower?

P: Don’t be daft, Jesus, of course I would.

J: And if there were?

P: I’d want to know what it all meant.

J: And what do you think that might be?

P: Well, it would be just like you, Jesus, to have shepherds around, common folk despised by good religious people because they’re ritually unclean and work on the sabbath.

J: And the astrologers?

P: They’d be Gentiles, unbelievers - but smart enough to know a good thing when they see it.

J: Exactly! A gold star for you - like the one they saw.

P: [Puzzled] I don’t follow, Jesus.

J: They did, Peter. But the point is that it was the least likely of people who first recognised me and rejoiced.

P: Like children, tax collectors, and sinners do now?

J: And . . .?

P: [Thinks] And me and Andy and the boys?

J: Peter, you astonish me!

P: Not half as much as you do me, Jesus!

J: You’re not far from the kingdom, mate, which has more to do with wonder than with dogma: the wonder of God’s coming to embrace a greedy world with generosity, a tough world with tenderness, a hardened world with hopefulness, and a crying world with a great big cuddle.

P: Hey, Jesus . . .

J: Yes, Peter . . .?

P: [Presenting him with a pair of sandals, tied with a red ribbon] Your Mum told us, and we had a whip-round. Happy birthday! And many happy returns!

J: There will be more, Peter, than you could ever imagine. . . Oh, and Peter . . .

P: Yes, Jesus . . .?

J: You know that guy you had a fight with because he said Joseph wasn’t my real father? In a way, he was right . . .